Exist
by pale-blue11
Summary: They told him it wasn't real. They told him that's why there was a stranger in his kitchen. But they didn't tell him anything past that.


_**I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or its characters**_

_**This is set one year after the human transmutation.**_

_**EXIST**_

They told him it wasn't real.

They told him that's why there was a stranger in his kitchen. But they didn't tell him anything past that.

The stranger was tall—though not so tall that Ed couldn't see the balding at the top of his head—with a permanent smile that constantly flickered over to his corner. Every time their eyes met, Ed flinched backwards into the joint of the walls, mostly sheltered by his brother's large, steel body. He didn't like the overly kind expression on the doctor's face; it was sickly-sweet, stifling, and settled heavily on Ed's recovering body.

"_He won't talk to me anymore_." She was talking. The woman who had welded metal into his flesh. Ed remembered it clearly—he even remembered agreeing to the process!—just as he remembered _the_ _look_ that went through her and Winry. _Granny Pinako_. That was her name.

"_That's quite normal_."

Ed huffed and crossed his arms, wondering yet again why he had to be there. He was merely thankful that Al had been allowed in, too, as Winry had been confined to her room. Neither of the adults reacted to the quiet creaks and scrapes that echoed around the room. Neither of them even acknowledged Alphonse. To them, he was nothing more than an animated suit of armour.

"_I don't care if it's normal_." Pinako's grip tightened on her mug of tea. Or coffee. Something hot, dark, and steaming. "_How do we fix this? He's really scaring Winry._"

Ed's eyes blazed in fury, and Al let out a sorrowful gasp. Sliding across the kitchen floor, the boy settled comfortably into the side of his brother's body. Al didn't respond, not until Edward whispered, with ferocity, "Don't listen to them, Al. Winry isn't scared of you."

Silence met his assurance—silence that had permeated the entire room. There were three gazes on him: one grey and blank, and two carefully wiped of emotion. That maddening little smile still rested on the doctor's thin lips.

"_This… This is…_" Pinako rubbed at the bridge of her nose, deliberately avoiding Ed. That was fine. He was doing the same in return. "_I'm not sure if he should be in here. He's been violent about this before._"

The man inclined his head in submission. "_Of course. I understand._"

"_Edward, why don't you and Winry go outside for a while? Not too far, you hear?_"

They always did that. They always forgot about Alphonse. And each time a pained whimper rattled through the metal suit, Ed would feel his brother's anguish as sharply as if it were his own.

_—Not fair—_

_—Not fair—_

_—Not fair—_

_—Not fa—_

"_Ed_?" Winry edged around him, until she was within his line of sight. They walked along the thin path leading towards the Rain River, surrounded on all sides by lush grass and blue skies. It was picturesque—not at all like that night, when storm had swelled the riverbanks and diminished the precious trail to a treacherous ribbon of mud. "_Are you even listening to me_?"

Ed swung the crutch before him like a fifth limb, settling it in between the unstable pebbles; he had learnt that particular trick soon after the wooden stick disappeared from beneath him, courtesy of a poorly-placed rock. Oh, how Winry had laughed—until, of course, she discovered fourteen tiny scratches in _her_ automail.

"_Your automail's great, Win!_" Ed offered in way of praise, hoping the flattery would banish her indignation at being ignored. "_I barely need the crutch anymore_."

The young girl made a noise of dissatisfaction and folded her bare arms. Today, she wore a yellow dress that almost outshone the sun. "_I still don't know why you won't take the both of them. It'd be easier to walk._"

"Because it hurts to put pressure on his shoulder port," Al explained patiently. After all, he had done so ever since Ed had been allowed to walk independently, almost a year ago. Still, neither Winry nor Granny understood.

Winry, in some petty reaction that Edward didn't understand in the least, pretended as if she didn't hear Alphonse, and raised an eyebrow in annoyance. "_Well? Are you gonna tell me or not_?"

"_What Al said_," Ed replied, pointing a metal thumb at the hulking figure ambling beside them. If Winry wanted to be petulant, he would meet her halfway.

Rain River appeared first as a slight glimmer, encased within a cage of towering hills shining blue in the mid-afternoon light. But as they crested the final slope, there was no denying the sheer enormity of the waterway. It always filled him with a small bit of awe.

"Hey, Al." Ed let his automail elbow hit his brother's forearm with a loud _clank!_ "I was thinking before. D'you remember when we met Teacher here?"

"Mm," the younger of the two hummed in response. "It looks a lot different now, doesn't it, Brother?"

"Yeah. There aren't even any clouds."

Except for the ones that shadowed Winry's face.

Lost in the midst of memories, Edward clambered the final few metres to the riverbank and sat down heavily. His shoes came off first, then his socks. The pants, he rolled up—just in case he was forced into the shallows—and he promptly tossed the discarded items towards the line of trees, standing in rows like soldiers.

Winry chased after them in a bit of a panic. "_What're you doing?_" she cried. "_You're not allowed to swim with automail!_"

Ed snorted and got to his feet, leaving his crutch on the ground. "_I'm not swimming, Winry."_

_"Then _what?"

He shrugged, knowing exactly what he was going to do, and knowing exactly how she would feel about it. "_I dunno. Spar, probably."_ He turned to Alphonse with an encouraging smile. "What about it, Al? Maybe I'll finally beat you."

The armour merely chuckled, then settled into a defensive pose that Edward quickly mirrored. Ed's muscles were stiff from the lack of stretching and his inability to exercise while under Pinako's hawk-like care. Maybe a spar wasn't such a brilliant idea, but it was in his head, and the desire to morph thought into action was attractive.

Very attractive. A grin cleaved his face in two, and he dipped his head in invitation.

Ed struck first, yet the blow never landed. Again, and again, arms and legs flailing, catching the sunlight, he threw punch after punch—kick after kick—but, while he missed by less than a whisker, his powerful blows hit nothing but air. The world flashed blue, green, gold, silver, as he flipped and jumped, caught in a dangerous dance with his steel-encased brother.

His muscles burned.

Dust coated his foot.

Sweat collected on his brow.

_He was winning_.

Slowly, but steadily, the suit of armour made its rattling retreat along the riverbank. Al's movements were lacking in precision, as if there was rust in his joints. Winry's warning cries went unheard and unheeded. They just sparred.

But then Alphonse fell.

The river's edge was soft here; water had turned the ground to mud. The sun glinted off of Al's breastplate, momentarily blinding his older brother. As crystal droplets sprayed upwards around the suit of armour, Edward's grin died. It died, and gave birth to a guttural cry of desperation, so similar to that which had broken free of his chest on that night when he had first lost his younger brother.

"_Al!"_

The blood seal. The blood seal was washing away. Ed felt it as a physical tugging, someplace behind his heart. That was the feel of his brother dying a second time. The blood seal was disappearing.

He didn't think.

_The blood seal._

He couldn't think.

_The blood seal was washing away._

He simply ran forward, automail arm outstretched to catch Alphonse.

_But he was already gone_.

That's right. Alphonse was gone. That was the source of his emptiness.

_He could do it again._

Distantly, as if in a dream, he heard Winry screaming.

_He knew the pattern. The transmutation circle._

_Too late_.

His foot touched the water.

_Too slow_.

It was up to his knees.

_It was lost._

The water was filling his mouth.

_Alphonse!_

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't see.

_Alphonse!_

No. He wouldn't let him down a second time.

He never saved him the first.

_His right arm was flesh and blood._

He never completed the sacrifice.

_Alphonse was buried next to Mother._

Ed was at the funeral. So was the suit of armour.

_No one else could see_.

Because it never existed.

**Hey! pale-blue11 here!**

**I really hope this wasn't too confusing—please let me know what you think!**

**Thank you for reading :)**


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